Saturday 28
We slept very well in our new beds,
despite the sozzled early-morning appearance of a noisy pom (he would have to
be another Dave) who staggered around the place and fell over in the dorm,
amazingly not breaking his grog bottles. Had a nice breakfast and set off for a
day of exploration.
Down a wide avenue and under the
Arc de Triumf, yep they have one here as well, not nearly as grand as the one
in Paris.
Into the gothic area and back to yet another Cathedral that Gaudi worked on. We got to go inside with a squillion other people.
Then walked through some lovely narrow ancient streets.
It really is a lovely city, well kept and safe. A pleasure to wander around. Eventually found the Rambles again and yet another Gaudi building. Then walked the length of Ramble and Gracia until we found Parc Guell (Gaudi’s Park). A brilliant place to spend a couple of hours admiring the viaducts, lookouts and distinctive buildings.
There was a mirador (lookout) on a small hilltop that was adorned with three crosses. A busker in tights and gaudy jacket was flailing away at a guitar, making disjointed gestures and vomit noises as some sort of send-up of Elvis and/or Rock Around the Clock. Chris gave him 1c and told him he was a drivelling imbecile and should go and perform his rubbish somewhere else. Today is a bit overcast and the views over Barcelona are not the best. It was a long walk back to the hostel where Chris cooked yet another delicious dinner.
Into the gothic area and back to yet another Cathedral that Gaudi worked on. We got to go inside with a squillion other people.
Then walked through some lovely narrow ancient streets.
It really is a lovely city, well kept and safe. A pleasure to wander around. Eventually found the Rambles again and yet another Gaudi building. Then walked the length of Ramble and Gracia until we found Parc Guell (Gaudi’s Park). A brilliant place to spend a couple of hours admiring the viaducts, lookouts and distinctive buildings.
There was a mirador (lookout) on a small hilltop that was adorned with three crosses. A busker in tights and gaudy jacket was flailing away at a guitar, making disjointed gestures and vomit noises as some sort of send-up of Elvis and/or Rock Around the Clock. Chris gave him 1c and told him he was a drivelling imbecile and should go and perform his rubbish somewhere else. Today is a bit overcast and the views over Barcelona are not the best. It was a long walk back to the hostel where Chris cooked yet another delicious dinner.
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